Woods Wanderer

Once again my wife felt the need to visit the seashore so we headed for the Maine coast early last week. With temps in the 50s, a chilling breeze and rain every day, it wasn’t weather for lounging on the beach. All the same, Judy got her ocean fix during a few shoreline walks, and I had plenty of opportunity to hike early in the morning while she was still sleeping. My best hike took place on the last day.

I drove over to Wells National Estuarine Research Reserve and meandered through forest and meadow just as a thick morning fog was burning off. I got there early enough to have the place all to myself – just me and the mosquitoes, I should say. With all the rain we’ve had lately, it’s been a banner year for them. No matter. As long as I kept moving, they didn’t bother me much.

Bunchberry, starflower and several other wildflowers were in bloom despite the closing of the canopy overhead. The many ferns in the surrounding understory were that vibrant vernal green that also brightens the leaves of the birches, maples and other trees. Coast, mountain or anything between, I love that green. And I love this time of year because of it.

I hiked the perimeter trail as it ran along the estuary then veered back into the woods. I particularly enjoyed the rather lengthy boardwalk cutting across a wooded wetland covered in sphagnum moss and other wet-loving vegetation. I’m not a big one for elaborate trail work, but in particularly damp places like this it minimizes impact and makes walking nearly effortless.

I feel more at home in the mountains, really, but anywhere a forest grows is a good place to be by my way of reckoning. With all the development along the southern Maine coast, I’m glad that some of its natural beauty has been preserved – estuary, wetland and forest as well as shoreline. All this complements the magnificent ocean view. We are enriched by it. We are enriched by all things that we are able to appreciate.

Tags: forest, Maine coast, walking, Wells National Estuarine Research Reserve

After lounging around the house all day yesterday, I awoke this morning with a tremendous urge to get out and make tracks. Didn’t have to talk my old dog Matika into it. She was right on my heels the moment I put on my boots.

Clearly I wasn’t the only one needing to walk off the holiday feast. The trail at Niquette Bay had plenty of boot prints in it. All the same, I had the place pretty much to myself late in the morning.

With so little snow on the ground, I didn’t bother bringing my Microspikes with me. That was a mistake. Icy patches caught me off guard a couple times and down I went. Other than that it felt good to ramble – to stretch my legs, keep a leisurely pace, and breathe in the frigid air. Hiking can be just as pleasant in December as it is in June.

The sun burned halfheartedly through the clouds. At midday it felt distant and the surrounding trees casted long shadows. There’s no doubt in my mind as to what time of year it is. Not that I’m complaining. As long as I can get out and walk every once in a while, I’m okay with it.

Back home now, I’m surprised by how quickly dusk has come around. Surprised once again, I should say. Still I wrap up the year’s business and make plans for the near future. Soon the calendar will turn and I’ll be back to my literary work with gusto. All the same, I’m daydreaming about a rigorous trek on the Cohos Trail – something I’ve wanted to do for a long, long time. This coming summer I’m going to make that happen. Every walk between now and then anticipates it.

Tags: Niquette Bay State Park, walking, winter

It has taken nearly a week but I’m back into my routine now. Back to writing, publishing, and running my book biz. Back to cooking, hanging out with Judy, and going for the occasional short walk between errands. Two weeks ago, I drove to Ohio to visit family and friends. That took something out of me since I do not pace myself when traveling alone. It feels good to be back.

The leaves are turning. Cool temps are common now. The days are noticeably shorter. All this is to be expected when we turn the calendar to October. Still I am a little shocked by it. The clock ticks away while I’m busy doing stuff, and I’m left wondering where the days have gone. That’s especially true this time of year, when the rows of pumpkins at the nearby farm stand make it clear that the growing season is over.

My eyes feast upon the splashes of color in the trees as I walk the Rail Trail. Most of the trees are still green but that’ll quickly change now. Note to self: take down the air conditioner still protruding from the bedroom window. Yeah, those days have passed.

I stop several times just to look around. Blue asters still bloom along the trail’s edge. Most other wildflowers have withered away. Still a touch of goldenrod, of course. And a few fallen leaves. I walk in shirtsleeves because, well, because I can. Not too many of these days left, either.

We all know what’s coming. “The long white,” a friend of mine calls it. The colder half of the year is when I do most of my writing. I look forward to that. But I’m also thinking I should go for a long hike or two soon, very soon – before the snow flies. October is a good month for that kind of thing. October is a good month for reflection and walking.

Tags: autumn, fall foliage, Rail Trail, reflection, walking

With the Autumnal Equinox fast approaching, I go for a walk in the woods to celebrate seasonal change. Yesterday’s high was 85, but this morning I’m wearing a flannel shirt and barely breaking a sweat. My long-haired German shepherd isn’t even panting. We both welcome the chill.

It’s been a hot, dry summer here in northern Vermont with near-drought conditions. The run of 90-degree days back in July reminded me of my childhood in Ohio. Some of the flowers my wife and I planted in the spring have burned up. I’ve watered them more than usual but hesitate to do too much of that since the water comes from a well. No, I can’t say I’m sad to see the warm season coming to an end.

There are patches of color in the forest understory but more brown in the leaves than usual. Overall the early fall foliage looks a little bleached out.  That could change dramatically during the next couple weeks. While more summer-like heat remains in the forecast, temps can drop fast like they did last night. This time of year is full of surprises.

During my walk, I spot the yellowish-brown leaves of false solomon’s seal. Seems like I was watching the spring wildflowers bloom a short while ago. Yet here we are now on the other side of the growing season. With each passing year, it feels like summer goes by a little faster despite the number of hot days. But that’s only how I perceive things in my advanced years. Nature has a different sense of time – one I can’t even imagine.

Sunlight suddenly breaks through the canopy, illuminating the still mostly green forest. I was in a funk earlier this week, but now each step I take forward feels like affirmation that life is worth living. So it goes during every woods walk regardless of the season. The days are getting shorter but that’s okay. The natural cycles are a good thing. I celebrate them, reveling in the present.

Tags: autumnal equinox, drought, heat, seasonal change, time, walking

An overnight rain soaked the area overnight, and for some strange reason I felt an urge to go for a walk in this wet world. After taking care of a little business in the morning, I did just that. I had my dog Matika in tow, of course.

We went for a short walk in the nearby town forest because that’s all my old dog can handle these days. Moving at her incredibly slow pace and stopping frequently, it was a contemplative walk. I barely broke a sweat, but my thoughts clipped right along at a good pace.

I inhaled the rich, dank smell of the soaked forest. My eyes feasted on its vibrant green foliage. A gentle wind rocked the treetops, shaking raindrops from them. I walked between the raindrops, it seemed, barely getting wet.

While meandering about I thought about work, family, friends, the future, the past, other tramps in the woods, life, death, other deep philosophical matters, and the most inane things. There was no real pattern to it all, much like dreaming while still awake. But the white bloom of wood asters drew me back into the here and now, as did the incessant chirp of crickets.

On the drive home, I paid close attention to patches of leaves turning here and there – mostly rust and gold. The change is just beginning. The cool, damp air rushing into the car window gave me a bit of a chill. I made a short list in my head of all the things that still needed to be done before day’s end, then I let out a great big sigh. Life, it seems, is what happens while we’re busy doing things.

Tags: awareness, contemplation, daydreaming, seasonal change, walking

After three days building shelves to expand my book biz, I figured it was time to treat myself. So I loaded Matika into the car and headed for a patch of nearby woods for an easy hike.

It was more of a walk, really, since I had my old dog in tow. I don’t break a sweat any more when I’m with her. That’s okay. I’ve started hiking without her whenever I want to get some real exercise. But this morning it was all about the two of us just being in the woods together, grooving on the wild.

We’re in the cusp between spring and summer now. The dames rocket flowering in ditches along the highway are proof of that, as is the sudden appearance of Canada mayflower and dewberry in the woods. “Days of heaven” is what I call this time of year, because it doesn’t get any better than this: ideal temps, vernal green, flowers blooming, and all the delights of summer directly ahead.

I love a woodsy walk. I love the play of shadow and light in the cool, green understory, along with the rich smell of forest growth and decay, and the sound of leaves rustling in the canopy overhead. I stopped by a beaver pond long enough to listen to veerys, thrushes, and other songbirds while basking in the joy of simply being alive. Oh sure, I have my concerns – doesn’t everyone? – but they didn’t phase me in that moment. And that’s the great thing about a walk in the woods. One draws quiet strength from it.

Matika was panting heavily by the time we finished our walk. All the same, I know she enjoyed being in the woods as much as I did. It doesn’t take much to make her happy. It doesn’t take much to make me happy, either. A patch of nearby woods does the trick.

Tags: forest, happiness, walking, walking with dogs

My dark rant came way too early this morning. Judy fled the room before breakfast was over to escape it. And that’s when I knew how badly I needed a walk in the woods. So I squeezed one in, right between a trip to the post office and a round of book promotion. Some things just can’t wait.

All winter long I have been pondering the human condition, trying to figure out what exactly it means to be human, how wildness and civilization factor into that, and how we’ve become the highly cognizant yet deeply flawed creatures that we are today. This isn’t a matter for the faint of heart, and I’ve found myself bogged down in the morass of morality more than once. Yeah, everyone’s got an opinion when it comes to human nature, how good and/or bad we are, but the irrefutable facts are few and far between. So my quest has put me in a surly mood, even as spring unfolds.

To walk in the woods and blow the stink off my thoughts I didn’t have go far. A quick jaunt up Aldis Hill did the trick. I knew there would be early spring wildflowers in bloom, and that would improve my outlook on things if anything could. Sure enough, I wasn’t disappointed. Bloodroot appeared amid the boulders, purple trilliums and trout lilies lined the muddy trail, and Dutchman’s breeches strutted its stuff near the top of the hill. I stopped to admire the wildflowers almost as much as my dog Matika stopped to sniff around. It’s like that sometimes. My primary task as Homo sapiens, it seems, is to simply admire God’s handiwork. That’s when I feel the most like myself and at peace with the world, anyhow.

I haven’t figured it out yet. My query into human nature is unfinished business, to say the least. But I’m already convinced that our relation to nature is critical to understanding who/what we are. So these walks of mine are necessary in more ways than one. We go into the wild not so much to escape the trappings of civilized society as to find ourselves, to make a primal connection and remember, on some level of awareness, where we came from… and thereby figure out where we are going.

When I get a good bead on human nature, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, I’ll just keep on wandering and wondering and scribbling down these little absurdities that I call philosophy. If nothing else, it keeps me from being one of those self-righteous fools who engage in unrestrained violence. Yeah, a walk in the woods is absolutely necessary.

Tags: human nature, springtime, walking, wildflowers, wildness

“April is the cruelest month,” the poet T. S. Eliot said, and we northern New Englanders know all about that. The funk of winter persists in our hearts despite the first green shoots pushing up through the newly thawed earth. And when the weather forecasters warn us about a coming snowstorm, those among us dreaming about t-shirt temps are outraged. It shouldn’t be this way, some say, but this is par for the course around here.

Snow, or the lack of it, is the main reason why I enjoy a simple walk along the Rail Trail this time of year. The landscape is all brown and gray, but it feels good just being able to move freely again. No slogging through slush, sliding over ice, or post-holing in deep snow. Only a relatively effortless foot-to-the-ground forward movement again. I had almost forgotten about it.

The starkness of April is the mirror image of November, only now the prospects look good for lovers of growing things. The days are getting longer, the birds are back, and soon the grass will be greening. After that, well, we all know what’s coming.

So I’ll take it. The grey skies, morning fog, and all-day rain – yeah, sure, bring it on. Even a little snow thrown into the mix, why not? It won’t last. This time of year, even a hard-nosed realist like me leans towards optimism. The great vernal bloom is inevitable. The growing season is already underway, though one has to look hard to see it. And these brown/gray days have a certain dismal charm. I revel in it.

Tags: cruelest month, early spring, end winter funk, walking

After six days of sub-zero temps my poor dog Matika was bouncing off the walls. I was hankering for a walk as well. So we headed out at noon today (pushing away from the computer) to stretch our legs. Temps were in the balmy teens by then.

Aldis Hill was on the way home from the post office where I ship daily. I parked the car near the trailhead then bolted into the woods. To my surprise, the snowy trail was hard-packed from heavy use. I was slipping and sliding around from the start. Didn’t think to bring my Microspikes. Oh well. Matika motored right past me with ease. She has four-paw drive.

A typical January day with snow on the ground and a partly cloudy sky overhead. The woods quiet, stark and leafless. The gradual climb kept me warm enough. I let go of work thoughts as much as possible. Plenty of time for that tomorrow when the big snowstorm arrives. My right knee ached, more from a lack of use than from overuse. Note to self: get outdoors more. Use it or lose it.

I’m glad the holidays are over so that I can focus on my literary work and the bookselling biz. I have yet another book ready to publish and look forward to getting it ready for the press. All the same, I’ve been feeling an urge lately to get out and go for a long hike, snowshoe, whatever. Soon, real soon.

Funny how winter doesn’t weigh on me as much as it did when I was younger. After 35 years living in the North Country, have I finally become a Vermonter? Well, the other day I returned home from a short trip to the grocery store and told my wife Judy that the near zero temps weren’t that bad. “It’s a dry cold,” I said.

After getting my fill of fresh air, and Matika her fill of sniffing, we returned home. Back to work. I don’t mind this season so much anymore. As long as I can get out every other day or so, I’m good. Pity those poor folks who fly south every year to escape the arctic blasts. They’ll never get used to it.

Tags: deep freeze, walking, winter

Today I have put the finishing touches on a book-length manuscript that explores the relationship between God, man and nature. After going through it several times, I can now see the argument as a whole. It doesn’t feel like I’ve done the subject justice, though. I question whether it can stand up to serious scrutiny. No matter. I pull on my boots and go for a hike to clear my head…

My dog Matika and I wander about a nearby town forest between bouts of rain, just as the sun breaks through the clouds. The grey trees, stripped of their leaves, cast long shadows across the forest floor at midday. My eyes drink in the remnant green of ferns, moss and clubmoss as the few dry leaves still clinging to branches rattle overhead. The leaves on the ground crunch loudly as I walk.

A pileated woodpecker sweeps through the trees at eye level. Matika catches the scent of something interesting and wanders off trail. I call her back. While standing on the trail waiting for her, I listen intently to the forest silence, marveling at the interplay of order and chaos all around me. And that’s it – all the validation I need. Pushing away from my desk after so many hours of abstract thought this morning, I harbored doubts about my pantheistic worldview. But while tramping through these woods, it makes perfect sense.

“So there is one thought for the field, another for the house,” Thoreau once wrote, “I would have my thoughts, like wild apples, to be food for walkers, and will not warrant them to be palatable, if tasted in the house.” I can relate to that. My wild thoughts regarding God, man and nature don’t make a lot of sense indoors. But on the trail, where such thoughts were born, nothing else does.

Reason has its limits. At some point one needs a direct encounter with the wild to fully grasp it and thereby see things as they really are. Thoughts and words are abstract. Wild nature is not.

Tags: pantheism, the forest, the wild, walking